


The Little Things

by Loxxlay



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Outo Country, Piffle World, Post-Series, Syaoran and Mokona are here too but very side characters in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 05:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxxlay/pseuds/Loxxlay
Summary: Fai realizes that Kurogane has never spoken about his past.





	The Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Tsubasa Chronicle Month](%E2%80%9Dtsubasachroniclemonth.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) on Tumblr! Day 31 prompt was "What Comes Next?" and I feel like the big answer for that is always going to be fan-made stuff - fanart, edits, and fic. :) And I will say that the fandom for TRC is absolutely amazing. I love you guys. ^_^

It’s not always easy. It’s not always fine.

Some days Fai will smile, and some days he’ll force the ends of his lips upward out of habit. Some days he’ll cook all three meals, and some days he’ll lie in bed for hours and refuse to move until Kurogane comes into the room with a tray of food and a promise that he won’t eat until Fai does.

Most of the time, Fai’s okay. But sometimes, a small detail—maybe a mother walking with her two children, or a gift that he doesn’t believe he deserves, or an argument—will tip him over the edge again, and he’ll have to scrape his way out again.

But it’s better. Because there’s hands (his _family’s_ hands) to help him out, to support him. Even when they saw him at his worst, they didn’t leave, so Fai knows that he’s not alone.

And as he heals, breath by breath, beat by beat, it feels as though he’s truly coming alive. He starts to wonder.

He wonders while he watches Kurogane go through his exercises in the morning before dawn. He wonders in the quiet conversations they have together, when Syaoran and Mokona dally outside of hearing range. He wonders when he lies in Kurogane’s arms at night and listens to the crickets chirp until he falls asleep.

Why does Kurogane—the man who knows and loves _all that Fai is_ —not share the demons of his own past?

At first, Fai brushes the thoughts aside. It’s unfair to expect Kurogane to disclose the pain of his past, when Fai never has himself—at least, not without Ashura’s influence. But overtime, the silences between Kurogane and Fai lengthen to discomfort, and Fai can’t go even a day without wondering.

They speak of Fai’s past often. When Fai dreams of his brother and wakes to fresh grief. When Fai falls into flashback and Kurogane nurses him back to reality. They spend hours going through Fai’s memories, establishing what was real, what was okay, and what was not okay, until Fai can breathe again.

But when Kurogane grieves for his own past, he doesn’t speak of it.

It wouldn’t matter—but if most of the other important people in Kurogane’s life know, then what does it mean for Fai if Kurogane won’t tell him?

So Fai can’t forever brush aside the stray thoughts that plague his fragile self-worth, when he catches Syaoran and Kurogane spending time together. _What do they say when I’m not around?_ Fai will see a small, innocuous thing and infer a warning: _You are not good enough. You do not deserve them. You do not deserve him. You are alone._

He hates himself for thinking it.

...

“There’s a race tomorrow,” Kurogane announces one night over dinner. He's fumbling with the device the Tomoyo of Piffle gave them to communicate with her—a device which was utterly useless until Syaoran managed to change the default language and install the app Piffle Translate. “The kid and I are planning to enter. You want to? I’m texting her now.”

Fai hums with thought. “No, I don’t think so,” he says. The adrenaline of competition doesn’t appeal much to him anymore, especially when no one he cares about is in danger. “Why don’t you join me in cheering for Syaoran-kun instead, Kuro-tan?”

Syaoran blushes beet red. “That’s not—”

Luckily, the boy is saved from his stuttering when Kurogane raises an eyebrow at them without looking away from the device in his hand. “We’d have a better chance at the prize if more of us enter.”

“Yes, but this is Syaoran-kun’s first race in person. You don’t want to steal the spotlight from him, do you?”

“No spotlight for Kuro-papa!” Mokona sings in agreement.

Somehow Syaoran blushes even deeper. “I really don’t mind,” he blurts. “The cash prize is definitely more important than the chance that I’d lose—and if Kurogane-san can win—”

“Oh shush, Syaoran-kun, don’t be so modest,” Fai says. For some reason, his hands are shaking, but he stuffs them under the table and attributes it to the excess of caffeine he’s had today. “Besides, Kuro-chan owes me a date anyway. We can spend it watching the race.”

Kurogane frowns in thought. “Actually if the kid’s competing on his own, I might visit the Tomoyo-hime of this world. We haven’t been here or Nihon in a while. I’d like to see how she’s doing and whether she’s had any dreams.”

Normally, Fai might tease Kurogane, who is never very open about these things. But his hands shake even harder when he tries to think of the words. Instead, he dons an over-dramatic pout. “But we haven’t had a date in _forever_ ,” he whines at Kurogane.

“Forever!” Mokona agrees readily. “The last Mokona saw was a week ago!”

Kurogane still hasn’t looked up from the phone. “And you wonder why,” he teases with an affectionate smirk.

Because he doesn’t know Fai is serious.

Which is fair because Fai didn’t know he was serious either until just now.

He’s suddenly toeing the line between fake tears and real ones, and he struggles with an abrupt waver in his voice. “Aww, that’s rude, Kuro-puu. I almost think you don’t love me anymore,” he tries to return-tease.

It doesn’t come out right.

He can tell because Mokona’s long ears droop and Syaoran’s eyebrows furrow. Kurogane’s gaze snaps from the phone to him in an instant. And with all pairs of eyes focused on him, Fai feels like crawling into a pit and staying there for an eternity.

Overwhelmed, Fai does what he’s best at. He pretends he doesn’t notice.

He smiles as wide as he can. “I’d better get these,” he says brightly and gathers the empty dishes on the table—ignoring the fact that his own dinner remains mostly uneaten because he always eats the slowest. And once he makes it to the solitude of the kitchen, he lets his smile fade.

The spray of water and the clatter of porcelain isn’t enough to drown out the strange sorrow in his heart. Sorrow that is inexplicable. He wonders wildly what is wrong with him, why he can’t just be happy, while he works mindlessly.

It doesn’t take long for Kurogane to join him, and he’s smart about it because he comes alone and he doesn’t immediately ask a hundred questions.

Instead, Kurogane dries the dishes after Fai washes and rinses them. They move in tandem with each other perfectly without words, and Fai is grateful because he thinks he might cry if he speaks now. A rawness tingles in his throat, begging for release, and he doesn’t know why.

When the last plate is put away, Fai turns to Kurogane for the inevitable conversation. There’s been enough time to compose himself. No running now. “Are Syaoran-kun and Mokona . . .”

“In bed,” Kurogane says. “I told him he needs a good night’s sleep for the race.”

The phone in Kurogane’s hand is blinking with a notification—probably an answering text from the Tomoyo of Piffle.

Fai hesitates. He doesn’t know why, but the mere thought of Kurogane and Syaoran competing together in the race— _without him_ —has his hands trembling and his eyes welling up with fresh tears and it’s completely ridiculous. “You can—” He swallows. “You can compete tomorrow if you want to. I’m sure Syaoran-kun wouldn’t mind, and I know it was unfair to force you out of it like that.”

“No, you were right,” Kurogane says, shrugging. “It’s not that big of a deal.” His eyes linger on Fai, as if seeing straight through him.

Fai gulps, guilt-ridden. “And Tomoyo-chan,” he breathes. “There’s plenty of time for us, but time with her is limited. You should see her.” He bites his tongue to suppress a shudder—because the thought of Kurogane and Tomoyo alone together oddly upsets him as well.

Kurogane nods in acknowledgment. But there’s a deep frown on his face that shows nothing of what he’s thinking, other than that he _is_ thinking.

( _Of what,_ Fai panics, _of what?_ )

“Are you worried that I have feelings for her?” Kurogane finally asks.

At this, Fai laughs, but the sound quickly becomes uncontrolled so he cuts himself off. “No, of course not,” he says, breathless. He knows very well that even if Tomoyo were interested in men, Kurogane and her have a different kind of dynamic.

But then, he wonders. Does she know? Does she know what the other Tomoyo knows about Kurogane’s past? Does she know, like Syaoran knows? A twinge of jealousy rushes through him, and he can’t beat it down like he normally does.

“I’m just,” Fai starts and then must stop to clear his throat. “I’m struggling lately, and it would help if I could spend some time with you. We’ve just been so busy lately, and I understand that it happens and that it’s not your fault, but I miss being with you all the same.”

Kurogane’s eyes narrow with worry. He reaches out and grasps Fai’s elbow, steady but gentle. “After the race, I’ll go see her. Before that, we can spend the whole day together doing whatever you want.”

“Oh!” Fai gasps, blinking away tears. “Including that circus tomorrow morning?”

“Including the circus,” Kurogane says, without even a sigh. It proves he’s being sincere.

Fai feels his face brighten with gratitude. “Ahhh, Kuro-puppy is really the best,” he sings as he throws his arms around Kurogane’s waist and presses his smile into Kurogane’s chest.

“I’m not a dog,” Kurogane grumbles but otherwise he doesn’t complain. He wraps his arms around Fai and squeezes him tight.

The next day goes as well as Fai had hoped. His momentary panic dissipates throughout the morning and afternoon spent alone at Kurogane’s side. His fear eases when they hold hands, nibble on cotton candy, sit in the stands for the race later, and cheer for Syaoran, who easily wins. And Fai can ignore the kernel of pain when he watches Kurogane meet with Tomoyo because Kurogane has just spent the day indulging his every desire—it’s the least Fai can do in return.

For a moment, Fai begins to think things are okay again.

Which inevitably leads to them getting worse.

In Edonis Country, the game world of Outo has been rebuilt, and the group plays once more, mostly to be with their comrades of this world.

It’s all very nostalgic.  Kurogane and Syaoran sign up as a team of hunters. And Fai restarts his cafe. It’s just like before—only Syaoran isn’t as much of a student of Kurogane’s anymore, and Sakura isn’t there.

At first, Fai mistakenly attributes everything to her. Sakura.

He uses her absence to explain the inexplicable heartache he feels when the other two leave to hunt demons. He uses it when he runs the cafe in their absence and can’t otherwise understand the emptiness he feels spreading inside of himself, the loneliness—even though Mokona is always nearby. He says it to Kurogane when Kurogane comes home early and catches him crying in their room.

“I miss her,” he chokes into Kurogane’s shoulder, and he really believes that’s why.

And Kurogane holds him close and strokes his hair and says that he misses her too. He has no reason to suspect any differently because Fai sincerely believes he’s telling the truth.

And it is the truth, he does miss her dearly. But it doesn’t explain everything.

It doesn’t explain why he delegates tasks to both Syaoran and Kurogane during the day to deliberately keep them apart. It doesn’t explain why some evenings he whines and pouts and drags at Kurogane’s arm, pleading for him to _stay_ , whilst insisting that Syaoran can handle himself.

It certainly doesn’t explain why he snaps at Syaoran one morning, when all the boy did was ask if he was okay.

“I’m sorry,” he says to Syaoran immediately after, but even if Syaoran swears that it’s fine, it doesn’t lessen any of his guilt.

Eventually Kurogane confronts him.

“I spent the entire day with you at the market, so stop trying to make me feel bad about this,” he says, stern lines across his brow. Gravity permeates his voice—he’s not kidding. ”I’m going with the kid. That’s final.”

Fai pouts. “But Kuro-chan—”

“ _No_ ,” Kurogane says. His voice hasn’t risen, but it’s still fierce and would be terrifying if Fai didn’t know him. “I’m not letting the kid hunt demons alone. _Ever._ And I am _done_ arguing with you about it every single night. Accept it, right now, or we’re going to have a problem.”

From beside them, Syaoran, who holds the oddly quiet Mokona, perks up. “Kurogane-san, I’ll really be fine, it’s just a game anyway—”

“Don’t,” Kurogane warns without looking away from Fai. In the silence, he waits and waits until Fai finally releases his sleeve. Then he reaches for his sword at the door and fixes the scabbard to his belt.

Silent, Fai watches with a gnawing helplessness churning in his gut. Kurogane has never yelled at him quite like this, and Fai is dying inside without knowing whether they’re okay—but he doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he goes to the counter across the room and grabs the two paper sacks he left sitting there.

When he comes back, Syaoran and Kurogane are already out the door on the porch. “Wait,” Fai says and winces when Kurogane gives him a fiery glare. “I just—it’s just dinner,” he murmurs and turns mid-step to hand both sacks to Syaoran instead. “In case you’re back late.”

Syaoran smiles at him—it’s awkward but it’s sincere, so Fai musters a smile in return.

“Good luck,” he says to Syaoran. He doesn’t look Kurogane in the eye and turns to head back inside.

Just as he gets one foot across the threshold, Kurogane plants his hand on Fai’s shoulder, and trembling, Fai lets himself be whirled around, his eyes fixed on the ground.

Kurogane stares at him for a long moment.

And Fai agonizes. _He doesn’t love me anymore_ , he panics. _He never loved me, he never did, and he’s going to say it’s over._

But Kurogane simply pulls him forward and briefly kisses his forehead. “Be safe until I get back,” he says and holds Fai’s chin, forcing Fai to meet his gaze. “Alright?”

Fai hears the unspoken words between them. He remembers Tokyo, the fatal pain in his eye and how Kurogane saved him. He remembers Celes, the resignation to his end and how Kurogane saved him again. It’s a reminder that Kurogane does love him. Fai exhales relief and forces a smile, because right now he’s too worn for tears.

“Alright,” he says softly and Kurogane lets him go.

And as the tense atmosphere fades, Mokona bounces from Syaoran to Fai and curls paws around Fai’s shoulders. “It’s alright, Fai. Mokona will keep mommy company while daddy’s gone,” Mokona announces.

Kurogane huffs an irritated breath, and Fai finally feels like laughing again. He pats Mokona and waves goodbye to the others.

But when he gets inside—he loses his relief. Even in Mokona’s company, he can’t keep himself together.

He can’t stop thinking about it. He can’t stop envying the close bond Kurogane and Syaoran must share, for both of them to know the intimate details of each other’s painful childhoods. He can’t stop imagining their conversations, how maybe Kurogane seeks comfort from Syaoran but not from him.

Fai remembers Kurogane’s kiss, to his forehead, and the words said to reassure him, and he can only think it was out of pity now. Because he’s finally realized how terrible he’s been. He has no right to Kurogane’s past, and still his feelings have been bleeding into how he treats Kurogane. How he treats Syaoran. And he has no right to treat either of them this way.

Mokona doesn’t leave his side for the entire evening, and it’s for the best. He doesn’t know what he would do were he alone.

…

The moon is high in the sky when Kurogane and Syaoran return, but it’s earlier than normal.

Fai knows it’s his fault that they’re back so soon, and he hates himself, more than he has in a long time. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t dare refuse when Kurogane asks to speak to him alone. He trudges after Kurogane to their room and closes the door behind them.

Kurogane cups his jaw with his good hand, his real one, and looks deep into his eyes.

It feels wrong. Fai can’t meet his gaze. He doesn’t deserve this affection. “I’m so sorry,” he blurts, before Kurogane can say a word. “I’ve been so horrible to you and Syaoran-kun, and if it means anything, I feel awful about it. I won’t do it again.”

“It’s okay,” Kurogane murmurs.

He steps closer, the scent of sweat and blood and ash from the fight is strong on his robes. Fai inhales deeply because it smells of home—but then he remembers. _You don’t deserve this._ He forces himself to back away, against the door. “It’s not okay.”

“We can talk about it later,” Kurogane says. “It’s more important to me to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been . . . struggling,” he says, borrowing Fai’s word, “for a while now, haven’t you? What’s going on?”

Fai bites his lip and fixes his gaze on the details of the wall behind Kurogane. He has been struggling. Every day, the thoughts drag him deeper. He’s drowning in his past because everyone _knows_ it, and for the first time, he feels a seed of anger—at Ashura for exposing him like this, for making him _hurt_ like this, even long after his death.

But it’s not fair to expect answers from a man who decided to love him _before_ knowing all of Fai’s sins. He has _no right_ to Kurogane’s past.

“I can’t,” Fai says and screws his eyes shut. “It’s not right. I can’t take and take from you like this, I just have to get over it.”

Kurogane tugs at his arm and nudges him towards the bed. Reluctant, Fai follows his lead. He sits on the edge and tucks his knees beneath his chin, curling his arms around his shins, and Kurogane sits beside him—so, so patient.

“What’s not right?” Kurogane asks.

Fai inhales sharply. He doesn’t want to cry. “It’s—” he starts and waits for his voice to steady. “It’s not right to want this from you.”

“Want what?”

Pressing his face into his knees, Fai simply shakes his head.

Kurogane sighs. He plants a large hand on Fai’s shoulder blades and massages the knots out of his neck. “Well,” Kurogane says. “I’ve already given you my blood. My arm. And a shit ton of work that you’re always too lazy to do yourself. I let you call me those stupid nicknames.”

He pauses, and Fai smiles despite himself. “You like the nicknames,” he murmurs.

Kurogane snorts, but he doesn’t argue the point. “You already know I’m not ditching the kid to hunt demons on his own, but other than that, it seems like I’m willing to give you a lot,” Kurogane says. “So let’s hear it.”

A heavy breath falls from Fai’s lungs. Kurogane is good at this—at getting Fai to say things he’s afraid to say. He should expect it by now, but it always comes as a surprise. He digs his fingers into his palms. Hesitates. Then, “I want to know what you know about me. I want to know your past . . . your childhood . . . how Fei Wang Reed hurt you . . .”

Kurogane drops his arm from Fai’s shoulders, and Fai’s heartbeat flutters in the silence that follows. He doesn’t dare shift to see Kurogane’s expression. Instead, he forcibly unclenches his hands and caresses the smooth, silky fabric in his fingertips, desperate to calm his anxiety.

When Kurogane speaks, his voice is toneless. “The kid didn’t find out about it by choice, you know,” he says. “Other than in Tokyo, he hasn’t brought it up with me. Ever.”

Fai winces.

“And Tomoyo-hime,” Kurogane says. “She knows because she’s the one who found me. I don’t know about the one on Piffle because we don’t talk about it either.”

Fai winces again because he didn’t expect Kurogane to remember what happened on Piffle. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Another silence, and Fai can’t bear it. He finally lowers his legs from his face to see Kurogane in full—Kurogane, whose expression is opaque and unreadable, whose narrowed eyes watch him closely, missing nothing.

Fai wants to lean forward and find solace in Kurogane’s arms. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed. “I’m wrong to want this,” Fai says softly. “I know I’m wrong. And even if you told me now, it wouldn’t matter—because I already asked. So please, can we just go to sleep? Maybe things will be better in the morning.”

They won’t be, Fai can guess. But he says it anyway.

Kurogane opens his arms, and a thick rush of relief passes through Fai as he’s able to bury his face in Kurogane’s chest. Kurogane pulls him and arranges them both until they’re under the covers and he’s crushing Fai in his grip.

Fai closes his eyes and inhales Kurogane’s scent.

“You can’t help wanting some things,” Kurogane says, his breath rushing through Fai’s hair. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Fai shudders with relief and clings closer. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

…

After that night, Fai manages to stop thinking about it so much.

Something about voicing his thoughts has diminished the pain in his heart. Sometimes it flickers to life again and burns, but it’s tolerable now. He can watch Kurogane spend time with Syaoran and smile at how doting Kurogane is and how eager Syaoran is to prove himself.

He doesn’t think the terrible thoughts anymore. He truly doesn’t need to know Kurogane’s past to love him.

And many nights later, it happens.

He’s snuggled in Kurogane’s arms, halfway to sleep, and Kurogane speaks, his voice quiet and smooth.

“My father was Lord of Suwa,” he says. “Mother was the shrine’s priestess. She got sick a lot. Was frail and thin. But she never let it get in the way of her duty.”

Fai struggles to act normally—to not hold his breath, to not speak, to not cry—because he’s terrified of ruining the moment. Even so, he’s struck by a wave of affection for Kurogane—an affection so strong that he wants to sing with joy. Instead, he holds perfectly still as Kurogane recounts his tale.

“When I was about the kid’s age, there was a demon attack. Father came back from it injured, and . . . he wouldn’t listen to me. He wanted to go back out. Without even telling mom.” Kurogane huffs a nostalgic laugh, so soft and so brief that Fai almost misses it. “Mom caught him, of course. She would never let him leave without casting her protections on him.”

Hearing the pause in Kurogane’s voice, Fai can’t help but lift his head and look at Kurogane’s face. Kurogane doesn’t notice because he’s staring at the ceiling, eyes lost in memory—and there’s a strain in his jaw, his neck bobs as he swallows, but he’s steady, breathing normally. He’s okay.

Still, there’s silence. For a long time.

And for a while, Fai lets it be. If this is it, this is it. He can guess the ending.

But then Kurogane looks at him, as if checking to see if he has Fai’s attention, and Fai realizes without any words shared between them that Kurogane _wants_ him to ask. He _wants_ Fai to be curious.

So Fai swallows nervously and asks, “What happened to them?”

Kurogane’s eyes glint in the moonlight as he considers the question. “My mother prayed in the shrine room to strengthen the border walls, and I guarded her outside. Didn’t matter.” He blinks, languid with the memory. “Fei Wang Reed made a portal. I heard him stab her, and she died in my arms.”

Fai weaves his fingers into Kurogane’s hand, giving him a comforting squeeze. “And your father?”

“The demons he was supposed to fight broke through the walls,” Kurogane says, voice deliberately indifferent. “Only thing left of him was his arm.”

The scene comes to Fai’s mind easily. A young boy, his mother dead in his arms, and demons erupting his home into chaos all around him—the same demons to have killed his father. Fai feels tears come to his eyes at the thought of Kurogane, alone and young and having just lost everything.

He pushes himself up so that his face is even with Kurogane’s, and he stares into Kurogane’s eyes. “How did you survive?” Fai asks after the silence has lasted long enough.

“I don’t know,” Kurogane says. His eyes turn away. “I don’t remember much after that.”

With his free hand, Fai smooths a lock of hair away from Kurogane’s face. When Kurogane’s eyes flicker back to him, Fai lets the compassion and empathy he feels in his heart show on his face. _I love you_ , Fai says with his gaze.

And Kurogane smiles at him in return, sad but loving. Eventually he finishes the story. “Tomoyo-hime found me surrounded by wreckage a few days later. Stuck in a rage. She broke me out of it. Helped me put my parents to rest.”

Fai nods and rests his head in the crook of Kurogane’s shoulder.

With the story over, the silence between them becomes comfortable, and Fai loses himself to numbed thought about the events Kurogane described to him. Even cherished by his family and then Tomoyo later on, Kurogane has lost things—that has become achingly clear to Fai now in a way it hasn’t before.

Fai thinks of his own pain and how he copes—or tries to cope—with it. Sometimes, it feels like it plagues him every moment of every day, but sometimes it’s less present and more bearable. Curious, he shifts in Kurogane’s arms to look at him again. “Do you think about them a lot?”

Kurogane frowns in contemplation. “Used to. Still do, but not like that,” he says. “I think about the good times more often than anything.”

Relaxing, Fai smiles. “The past is the past, right?”

“Right.”

And that’s it. Trusted with these memories, trusted boundlessly by Kurogane, Fai feels less like a parasite, less like he’s drowning in his own past, less like Kurogane’s trying to help him and being dragged in himself. Instead, he feels equal to Kurogane for the first time.

It fills him with hope. If something so terrible, so undeserving, could happen to Kurogane, then—maybe it wasn’t right what happened to Fai either. And maybe—if Kurogane can move forward—maybe Fai can move forward too.

Kurogane’s hand, tucked in Fai’s, grips tighter, with comfort.

It’s a question, even though he hasn’t said anything. Fai smiles shyly and squeezes Kurogane’s hand in return. _Thank you._ Kurogane didn’t need to tell him—but he did, and Fai is overwhelmed with affection.

He struggles to find his words. “If something comes up—and you ever want to talk about it, more or again,” he says quietly, “you can. I don’t expect you to, of course. I just mean, I’m here for you . . . like you are for me.”

When Fai looks, Kurogane is smiling, his features softening as they rarely do. “I know. I wouldn’t have told you otherwise.”

Heart fluttering, Fai blushes deep. And they kiss. Gently. Timelessly. Fai doesn’t know who started it, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s here, he’s loved, and he’s not alone. They fall asleep soon after, pressed against the comfort of each other’s bodies, and content smiles brightening their faces.

...

It’s still not always easy. It’s still not always fine.

Some days Fai can’t smile convincingly and some days he can’t get out of bed. But most days he can. And some days, on very special days, Kurogane will say something rare.

That he knows how to catch fish because he used to go fishing for his mother. Or that his father used to kiss his mother’s hair to tease him because Kurogane once complained that kissing on the lips was gross. Or how at barely eight years old Kurogane used to climb trees to the very top unless his mother caught him at it.

Each confession shoots warmth through Fai’s heart and often has him smiling for the rest of the day.

It’s not always easy, but with time, Fai learns that it’s the small moments like these—when they can truly surpass their barriers and see each other for who they truly are—that make everything worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on my tumblr [loxxxlay](%E2%80%9Dloxxxlay.tumblr.com%22)! :) Definitely planning to contribute more to KuroFai.


End file.
